


head over heels when toe to toe

by hrtbnr (kiden)



Category: Class of 198x (Web Series)
Genre: AU, F/M, post season-1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/hrtbnr
Summary: It’s weird to see her like this, throwing pebbles at his window in the middle of the night and smiling so brightly from the front lawn it could make the sun rise.





	head over heels when toe to toe

It’s weird to see her like this, throwing pebbles at his window in the middle of the night and smiling so brightly from the front lawn it could make the sun rise.  All that blonde hair is piled on the top of her head and tied off with a purple ribbon, shorts too short, pristine white skippies and an old  _ She-Ra _ t-shirt not big enough to hide the fact she’s braless.  When Sam opens the window she shifts her weight from foot to foot, fingers twisting around the headphone wires of her walkman, and even from the second story he can see how red it gets when she drags her teeth over her bottom lip.

“What are you doing?” she says, her voice carrying softly up to him. 

“Jerking off.” Amanda makes a small sound, her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, and scrunches her face in disgust. “Wanna give me a hand?” 

“With these hands? My hands?” she says, and wiggles her fingers up at him. “Sorry, they’re reserved for myself. Every night.  _ Slowly. _ ” 

Leaning out the window, Sam hides his right hand under the sill and moves his arm like he’s fisting his dick, and says, “Say that again.  _ Slowly. _ ”

“You can’t afford it,” Amanda laughs, really laughs, until her smile pushes up her cheeks and Sam can see her bubblegum pink tongue poking through her teeth. 

“But it’s for sale, huh?” 

“Mhm,” she hums, still twisting the wire in her fingers, her hand pressed between her breasts. “Why don’t you show me what you got. Maybe I’ll give you a discount.” 

Her lips part, just a little, and Sam thinks about a million years ago, watching her blow Steve. How pretty she’d looked. How stupid it was he didn’t offer to touch her back.  

He grabs his crotch over his briefs, shakes it a little, says, “You wanna see it? I’m not afraid, baby.”

“Ugh, don’t,” she says, and exaggerates a shudder. “Don’t call me  _ baby _ .”

“How’s bitch? Slut?  _ Who _ -re.”

“You’re pushing it, Sam. Thin fucking ice, asshole,” she sings, but there’s a hint of something underneath. He knows the rules. Knows how this works. When it works, anyway. “Are you gonna invite me up or what?”

The summer is winding down and Sam has been stuck in this place for a long time since their fucked up adventure but Amanda always seems to be leaving.  He’s got Mike full time, but Amanda comes and goes along with the seasons, lit by Christmas lights and spring break bonfires. He’s lucky to get that. Hannah never even comes home from college and Mike says it’s because Springfield isn’t Hannah’s home now, especially not since her parents moved away.  It’s none of their homes anymore, hasn’t been for a while, but Sam doesn’t bother to tell him that. He’s got a moving company he’s proud of and he let’s Sam work for him. It’s a boat he doesn’t want to rock. 

He misses them.  Misses Amanda when she’s away, but she’s still got two more years of school, and anyway, even after she graduates, she probably won’t come back. Why would she.  But he likes to pretend she might. That summer can last. 

“No,” he says, and ignores her loud sound of protest as he backs away to pull on his sweats and shove his feet into his sneakers. “Wait there,” he tosses out the window, “don’t move.” 

He could just walk out the door, he’s fucking twenty-one years old and no one would stop him, but he climbs out the window instead. Because they’ve never done that, done  _ this _ , and they should. Because she should have the memory of someone climbing out a window just to see her, and he wants to have it too. 

“You’re dumb. I hope you fall and die.” 

“I might,” he says, just as he slips, grabs the shutter then a nearby branch before shimmying his way down. “Fuck you.” 

“In your sad, pathetic  _ dreams _ .”

Sam jumps down the last few feet, lands ungracefully but alive, and says, “Every goddamn night.” 

And Amanda blushes. He didn’t even know she could do that. 

It’s weird to see her like this.  Without her makeup or perfect hair, without her bracelets and charm necklaces - it’s been a long time since he’s seen just Amanda. The stripped down version. Like an acoustic version of a New Romantic song. 

“What’s going on with your walkman?”

“Spandau Ballet,” she says, and sounds breathless. 

Sam laughs, because he fucking  _ knew it,  _ knows her whether she says she wants him to or not.  She keeps opening doors. 

“What?” she says at the sound of his laughter. “You shithead.”

He’s got two more summers to tell her he loves her, and then she can do whatever the fuck she wants with it, with him.  Sam knows she’s going to throw it away as soon as he says it, but sometimes he doesn’t care. Sometimes this shit is enough. 

Amanda lets him take her hand and doesn’t ask where he’s dragging her to. 

 


End file.
